


Of Flat Tires And Downpours

by afteriwake



Category: Bones (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Impala gets a flat and Sam and Dean talk about their last hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Flat Tires And Downpours

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **partly** at **spn_holiday** on Livejournal. I used one complete prompt and used aspects of another, because I couldn’t get a full story out of the crossover one but I desperately wanted to use the general idea: Sam and Dean in the Impala stuck at the side of the road with a flat tire in a downpour. Any Season and SPN/Bones – Dean and Booth bond over pie. Bonuses for including Sam, Brennan or Sweets.

The familiar sound of an exploding tire seemed to echo in their ears, even with the rain pouring down on the top of the car. Dean pulled over to the side of the road on the pretty much barren highway in Virginia. It had been a _long_ week, complete with a pesky ghost at a house that later became a crime scene and an unexpectedly helpful FBI agent, and it had all turned out well in the end, but it had been long and all they wanted to do was get to the next town and grab a warm meal, a motel room with two beds and a few hours of shut- eye before they continued further south.

“Damn,” Dean muttered as he hit the steering wheel. “I told you, Sammy. I _told_ you that life was just waiting to screw us over.”

“Just because the tire’s flat doesn’t mean we’re getting screwed over,” Sam said with a sigh and a roll of the eyes before he turned to look at his brother. “I’ll even go out and change it.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Dean said, resting his head back against the seat and looking up at the roof of the car.

Sam shook his head slightly and opened the door. “What side?”

“Driver’s rear,” he replied.

Sam pulled the back of his jacket up over his head slightly, but when it slipped back down he didn’t bother to do it again. Faster they got back on the road the better. He popped open the trunk and looked for the spare. Then, when he grabbed it, he felt something that made his spirits dip: it was flat, too. He shut the trunk and kicked the flat tire still on the car before heading back to the passenger side of the impala. “Bad news,” Sam said. “The spare is flat.”

“It’s flat? How can it be flat?” Dean asked incredulously.

“I don’t know,” Sam said. Then he paused. “Oh.”

“Oh what, Sam?” Dean said, turning to glare at his brother.

“When you were gone, there was a flat. I changed it, I guess I forgot to get it replaced.”

Dean turned back to the front and rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay. Where are we?”

“We’re near Chesapeake,” Sam said.

“Big city?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged slightly. “Big enough, I guess. It’s not a tiny blip on the radar, at any rate.”

“Okay. We’ll figure out a way to get a tow truck and we’ll wait it out,” Dean said. “But I swear, _you’re_ paying to get the tire replaced. _And_ to get a new spare.”

“Fine,” Sam said, pulling out his phone. He found a towing company who would get the car and tow it into town to the only repair shop still open that late, and when he hung up he turned to Dean again. “Now we just have to wait about thirty minutes.”

“I can do thirty minutes,” Dean said, settling into the driver’s seat more. “Man, DC was something else, wasn’t it?”

“Never thought the FBI would actually help us out,” Sam said. “Course, we weren’t using our real names.”

“Yeah. And it’s a good thing you picked out the names, because I was going to call myself Eric Clapton. I _hate_ getting surprised by law enforcement when I’m on the job.”

“Agent Booth seemed like a pretty okay guy, though,” he said. “I didn’t think he’d buy our reasoning for being there, and I still don’t think he did, entirely, but he let us go. I’m thankful for that.”

Dean thought for a moment. “You know what I’m thankful for? That diner he directed us to when you told him we were looking for a place to eat. Best pie I ever had. And that’s saying something.”

“Yeah. I almost freaked out when he showed up with that one woman and the young guy,” Sam said with a slight chuckle. “The fact that he just nodded to us set my nerves at ease, though.”

“Yeah, me too. That one guy looked really young though. And his smile was kinda creepy.”

“When I walked by to go to the bathroom, I heard the woman call him Dr. Sweets, and then the Agent Booth called her Bones. They have really weird names, apparently.”

“Bones?” Dean said with a grin. “She was a little on the thin side. Maybe it’s a nickname meaning she should gain a little weight.”

“I thought she was attractive,” Sam said with a slight shrug.

“I liked the woman that came in and joined them. She looked almost exotic. Definitely wouldn’t have minded getting her number.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You have a two track mind, you know that? Food and women.”

“And beer. Don’t forget beer.”

“Beer goes under food,” Sam said. “You ingest it just like you ingest food.”

“No, beer needs to be its own track in my mind. So it’s got to be women, food and beer, in that order.”

“I would have thought for sure that it was food, women and beer. You’re always complaining about how hungry you are,” Sam said.

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t gain any weight,” Dean retorted.

Sam looked over at him and grinned. “You know, if you really want her number, we can head back to DC and stake out that diner.”

Dean thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “As attractive as she was, I don’t want to push my luck with that FBI agent,” he replied. “We got lucky, I think.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Besides, who knows who you’ll meet when we get to South Carolina?”

“In a little town? Called Beaufort? Probably no one,” he said.

“You think like that you definitely won’t,” Sam replied.

“Since when did you become Mr. Positive Thinker?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got caught in the rain with a flat on the side of the highway in a downpour. I mean, it could be a lot—“

“Don’t, Sam. Don’t even tempt fate like that,” Dean said, holding a hand up.

“Fine, fine,” Sam replied. “So, we’ve got some more time to kill. What else should we talk about?”

“I’m thinking it might be time for a little roadside siesta,” Dean said, slouching in the seat. “Wake me up when the tow truck gets here.”

Sam looked at him and then shook his head before turning and looking out the window at the falling rain. It was good to have his brother back…


End file.
